darkness is what we strive for
by percychased
Summary: Harry Potter is too bloody noble for his own good. Or, the aftermath of the war and discovering some things.


"_There is no flag large enough to cover the shame of killing innocent people." - Howard Zinn_

.::.

The wind is violent and thrashing, almost like it's trying to send a message. Maybe it is - maybe she shouldn't be out _here, _of all places…

Ginny shrugs. Now isn't the time for cautiousness or over analyzing - and anyway, since when did she put much emphasis on that? Everyone's dancing over broken glass, but they're all getting cut. Every single one of them, including her.

He has to realize everyone else is suffering, and as _disgustingly _noble he is, he has to realize that this _isn't his fault. _If Harry James Potter would have died alongside James and Lily Potter that night in Godric's Hollow, there would still be a war raging on. Voldemort would have still murdered in cold blood, and the Dark Mark would have hovered over the places he had silenced another life.

He's sitting near the Black Lake, with his knees drawn up to his chest. The ruins of the castle are to his back - and to hers, now, too, and it's almost like nothing has happened. But if she - _they _- turn around, they will see. The destruction, the light from the Great Hall illuminating the bodies, some still, some moving.

She sits next to him, and she's silent at first. Silence is something she is not used to; she has grown, lived, thrived in the loudness of her home, of her school, of everything around her. But the silence right now seems so fitting. And necessary, she might add. Ginny's sixteen, almost seventeen, but that is old enough to know that not everything is going to be loud. Some things need to be quiet.

It is, until she breaks the silence. She isn't sure if he has noticed her or not; he's still staring into the Black Lake with an undecipherable look in his eyes, his glasses sitting crookedly on his nose. His face is bleeding, too, and so is his arm, but he doesn't seem to care or notice, for that matter.

"It isn't your fault, Harry," she says, and while she's sitting close to him, she doesn't touch him. Not yet, not the right time.

He says nothing for a while, but there's a different look in his eyes that tells her that he has heard her. He knows what she is saying.

"Don't say that," he says, and his tone is so firm and so believing in himself and what he thinks that she's almost tempted to give up her point. _Almost. _

She's not going to tiptoe around him - Ginny Weasley is a master at sneaking around, but for this, she won't. She will not baby him, or speak softly, or offer loads of sympathy. She needs to get her point across - _he is not the only one hurting right now. _

"Oh, stop it," she snaps. Harry's head turns to her - he's clearly heard the derision, the coolness of her tone now.

"Stop _what_?" He asks, and if he wasn't so bloody serious she'd tell him to stop the dramatics, really. But he isn't being dramatic - he's being _truthful, _it's what he thinks - that he's at fault - and it's the biggest load of Hippogriff dung she's heard in a while. And that's saying a lot. "Stop feeling bad because _everyone _around me is hurt because of me? I got myself into this -"

"And this was coming, regardless," she says. There's a tone in her voice that wasn't there before - almost knowing. Ginny feels a little bit more like an adult - not like a child, anymore, playing a game of war. This is not a game at all, because the grief coursing through her veins is very real and Merlin, can she ever feel it. "A war was going to come, Harry. You were the catalyst - _not _the reason." A part of Ginny feels extremely irritable - like she's been wound up so tight she's going to snap, explode all over him and his it's-all-my-fault sorry arse.

"I am the reason," he moans, and Ginny wonders how Hermione and her brother put up with him every single day of his Hogwarts years. "If I would have done this differently, Ginny, maybe…"

"People would still die!" She exclaims, waving her hands about. "I get you're too bloody _noble _for everyone here, but really, Harry! You left me, almost a year ago, because you're a target and I understand that now. But for all of these people…" She says, and she finds she can't go on. There's nothing more she can say, because the grief that poisons her blood and is running through her veins is choking her throat and Ginny Weasley _never _cries but she can feel it, and it's starting, and it's just now that she realizes the battle might be over, but the war will never be won. Ever. There will always be grief and sanity to battle against, and right now, those are her biggest opponents.

Harry makes a noise in the back of his throat, and she wonders, wonders if he's going to say anything…

And he does. "I'm sorry," he says, and really, it's that simple. There's no long explanation needed, because she understands. He is sorry for everything that has happened; the things he could have stopped and the things that have always been, and always will be, out of his reach. He's sorry for the times he's done something wrong - and _Merlin, _is he ever sorry for the people that died, put themselves at risk for him.

Ginny looks at him, and he looks back.

There are many more words that need to be said, and a million more things that need to happen, but this is a start.

* * *

a/n - A plot bunny I've had in my head for a while. For several competitions; including Representing that Character, As Strong As We Are United, The Duct Tape Competition; black. Review, yeah? Word count: 976.


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